S to the A to the N to the T to the A to the Cruz

For those of you who don’t know, I myself being one such person merely one week ago, Santa Cruz, California is a crazy-ass place. My perception may be slightly altered because I live on Pacific Avenue, which is basically “the party street” as I understand it. On this street of mine, none of the fabulous restaurants open BEFORE 9 or 10 am!!! Isn’t that just INSANE. Sleeping in seems to be the norm here, for example, my Feminist Theories class starts at 10am and my instructor actually referred to it as an “early morning class” and advised people who don’t get up early not to take it. Is that fucking crazy or what?!? What is even more amazing is that everyone here is, like, NICE. Everyone says stuff like “thanks” and “I’ll hold your place in line” and “after you” and “would you like that with organic sprouts”? All of this leads me to my main point. (New Paragraph.)

Santa Cruz is a parody of itself. Its darlingness is so infectious and everything is so Santa Cruz, I just can’t explain it any other way. Some of my favorites this week include:

*A sign in a restaurant advising all who enter not to flirt with the girls who work there because they are “fine young ladies from good homes” as well as a strict no-cell-phone policy.

*make-shift signs on business doors apologizing for being gone because, you know, they’re at the beach.

*A vegan option for every single thing on the menu.

*Boys in the Feminist Theories class.

I’m pretty much having a love affair with Northern California and may never leave. I mean, are places allowed to be this beautiful?